


Handle My Darkness

by muchmorethanaprincess



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: And I'm not sorry, Bellamy as Persephone, Bellamy is a sweet summer flower child okay, Clarke as Hades, F/M, Hades/Persephone AU, Octavia as Demeter, but also stubborn as hell!clarke, not accurate mythology, pining!clarke, some smut later on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-06 17:35:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4230759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muchmorethanaprincess/pseuds/muchmorethanaprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hades and Persephone AU in which the roles are reversed. Clarke is queen of the underworld, and Bellamy's the one with flowers in his hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really care about accurate mythology, so if that's important to you, sorry. I was planning on posting this as one huge one-shot, but I got tired of just sitting on it while I finish the rest.

In the stories that are passed down later, the stories that get mangled a little bit more with every retelling, he’s the one who lives in the underworld, and she’s the one who gets tricked, who is pulled away from her family to join him. He’s the one stuck in the darkness, alone save for the broken souls he watches over, and she’s the one with flowers in her hair who loves her mother and isn’t smart enough not to eat the fruit when it’s offered to her.

And that’s a nice story. But it’s not theirs.

Their story goes like this. Her name is Clarke, and she ends up in Hades because her father offends the wrong god, and it’s not enough to just destroy her father, he believes in punishing posterity too, so that they never forget not to cross him. It’s not actually a bad gig, not for her at least, because someone’s got to do it, and she has enough compassion to actually care for the people she supervises. She understands the value of her work, and it’s enough to keep her from going crazy most of the time.

But she’s lonely. She’s always lonely. She needs connection, and she gets it from Finn for a while, but he’s plain, and not very good at accepting Clarke’s darkness, so when she discovers that he has an engagement with another goddess (and really, she should have known, it’s so easy to hide things from her when she’s almost always stuck in the underworld) she ends it immediately. She doesn’t need to learn about the wrath of a goddess scorned.

She gets connection from Lexa, for a while, but Lexa doesn’t love the souls of the underworld the way that Clarke does, looks at them with scorn every time she visits, and it makes Clarke angry. Still, she holds on, but Lexa is offered new work ruling over a distant province, and she takes it, leaving Clarke to her loneliness, and her lost souls, and her river Styx.

She gives up on the idea of connection for a while after that. Her prisoners don’t ever hurt her, and she gets some satisfaction out of caring for them, and really, why would she want another god or goddess to come meddle with her heart again? To insinuate themselves in her world, leaving behind memories that she can’t manage to scrub out once they’re gone. No, Clarke thinks, she doesn’t need that.

So she cradles her loneliness to her chest like a child, nourishes it with her broken heart, and tells herself that she’s not going that route ever again, no matter how enticing the object. She tells herself that no one will love her, or her people, as much as she does, and that’s fine. Really. Love has only ever been something that’s hurt her, so she doesn’t want it.

She stays true to this for a few years. It’s easy really. She just doesn’t leave Hades unless it’s absolutely necessary, and when she does leave, she returns as quickly as possible, never slowing to glance around at all the people she can’t have in her life. She returns and acts as if nothing is amiss, as if her heart isn’t aching for some kind of anchor.

Her method works for a while, and she’s almost forgotten what love feels like anyway. It doesn’t hurt so much when it’s just a dull pain, not throbbing anymore with the reminder of what it’s like to be held, or cared for, or made love to. If she can barely remember the joy, the lightness of those things, then she doesn’t long for them as much. She’s almost forgotten what love feels like, and she’s managing just fine.

Until she sees Bellamy.

And then she’s just gone.

 

 She sees him at a conference of the gods that she is forced to attend. He’s sitting there, looking rather aloof for a man with flowers woven into his hair. She spends the first year doing little more than what could gently be called stalking him. If she uses all of her godly resources to find out everything she can about him, well, Zeus has done worse. If she sends her servants, Monty and Jasper (not quite prisoners, but not free men, either) to observe Bellamy, to report to her on his smiles, on the things that make him laugh, then it’s not as if she has many other comforts in her dungeon of a kingdom, right? Could someone really begrudge her this one happiness? And besides, gods and goddesses were known for being obsessive. It’s not her fault that her noble lineage gave her the same ridiculous trait. She pushes aside the thought that she never felt this affected around Finn or Lexa.

She goes to more conferences than necessary that year, stares at him the whole time, and thinks about inviting him to visit Hades with her. Some gods, after all, are interested in seeing the underworld, though they would never want to lead it. (Most are too weak.) But she sees him smile at someone as they pass, sees the light that practically radiates from his face, and thinks about how the flowers in his black hair would wither after one step into the underworld with her. She thinks that a man as bright as him probably wants nothing to do with Hades, or the woman who watches over it, especially since he doesn’t have any trouble keeping up a steady stream of lovers, (though he does so without even a hint of trickery) from what Monty could discover. A man like him would probably flinch when he hears the screams of the souls at night, would recoil from her hands after he sees her caring for them.

Bellamy could never handle her darkness, she decides, so she won’t offer even a piece of it to him.

Plus, he’s got a sister, and Clarke can’t bear the thought of suggesting he leave Octavia when she sees how happy he is around her. No matter how selfish she feels sometimes.

The problem is that Clarke isn’t exactly subtle, so after a year of blatantly staring at him from across conferences filled with gods and goddesses debating over absolutely pointless issues, he does something.

He walks into Olympus, looks at his usual seat, and then walks directly to Clarke.

“This seat taken?” He nods next to her, and Clarke only shakes her head and looks away because, _oh fuck._ She’s never heard his voice this close, and it wraps around her like a warm blanket. It’s deep and assured, and she wants more of it immediately.

“So…” He says when he’s seated, and Clarke glances back at him questioningly.

“You’ve been staring at me at every meeting for the past year.”

She keeps her gaze blank, not ready to talk yet, and he holds up his hands in submission.

“Alright,” he says. “I’m Bellamy.” He holds out a hand, and Clarke slips hers into it carefully, shakes it and pulls away before he can notice how the contact affected her.

“That’s your cue to tell me your name,” He says teasingly when she continues to stare at him.

“I’m Clarke,” She says, and Bellamy rewards her with a gorgeous smile.

“Nice to finally meet you Clarke.”

She turns away as someone moves to start the meeting, too distracted by Bellamy’s presence to even notice who it is. While the gods and goddesses argue over night rotations and harvest schedules (she sees Octavia get into it with someone across the room) and the less desired watch locations, Clarke gnaws at her bottom lip and watches Bellamy’s hands fiddle with a bundle of flowers. She can’t figure out what he’s doing at first, just tying a bunch of flexible twigs together, but by the time he braids the flowers into the circlet she realizes it’s meant to be a crown.

Octavia rushes to Bellamy as soon as the meeting ends, and Clarke breathes a sigh of relief that she’ll be able to slip away without him noticing. But just as she’s turning to leave, he speaks.

“Octavia, have you met Clarke?” His voice sounds amused, like he knew that she was trying to get away before he could ask her about the staring again.

“I’ve seen her around,” Octavia says, bowing slightly in greeting. “How’s Hades?”

Bellamy’s eyes widen enough for Clarke to notice as she answers, “It’s fine, thank you for asking.”

“Wait,” Bellamy starts. “You live in-”

“That’s me, queen of the underworld,” Clarke cuts in before he can finish, curtsying mockingly before them. Octavia smiles wryly at this, and Clarke thinks that she would probably like her if given the chance. Bellamy seems shocked into silence.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have lost souls to get back to,” Clarke says, and turns to leave. She walks five steps before Bellamy calls, “Wait!”

She stops in place but doesn’t turn, so he moves around to stand in front of her.

“I didn’t know you ruled the underworld,” he says haltingly.

“What, would you not have sat by me if you did?” Her voice is rigid, and he seems to realize his mistake.

“No! No, that’s not what I meant. I just- didn’t realize who you are.”

Clarke doesn’t say anything and Bellamy finally looks down, sheepish.

“I, uh- I made this for you.” He holds out the flower crown, and Clarke gulps, looking away. She doesn’t need to see it again, the image of the buds and Bellamy’s beautiful hands maneuvering them together is already pressed sharply in her mind.

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” she says, and sees Bellamy’s eyes jolt to her face at the strange emotion in her voice, “But it’s useless to me.”

Bellamy’s whole face falls, and Clarke feels terrible. But if she doesn’t push him away, she’ll let herself be affected by how much she wants him, and that won’t be good for either of them.

“Yeah, I mean,” he pauses, clears his throat, “It was just a gift, if you don’t want it, that’s fine.”

He sounds so confused that Clarke has to cut in. “It’s a lovely gift, and I do want it.”

He looks back to her, brow furrowed. “But the flowers will die the second I walk back through the gates.”

“Oh,” he says, smiling. “That’s easy to fix.”

Clarke watches with amazement as he holds the crown to his mouth and exhales gently on the flowers. They absorb his iridescent breath and instantly bloom, radiating light.

“They’ll still die probably, but they should last a bit longer than just past Cerberus.” He winks at her, and then moves to place the crown on her head, meeting her eyes to make sure it’s alright. Clarke nods and leans in, and Bellamy adjusts the crown to his satisfaction.

Before he can move his hands away, Clarke grabs his wrists, running her fingertips over the inner sides.

“Um.” She looks up to his face. “Thank you.”

His fingers curl into her hair. “My pleasure.”

Clarke releases him and steps away, blushing at their closeness.

“I really do have to go.”

Bellamy nods and watches her leave.

 

When Clarke walks back into the underworld, she thinks she feels the crown tremble on her head, but Bellamy was right, it holds up through the darkness. It finally dies two weeks later. Clarke places the dried flowers on her nightstand, and pretends that she’ll be able to stay away from the man who threaded them together for her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Bellamy dance around each other, and Octavia is the only one with any sense.

The next time Clarke sees him is months later, at a conference she is required to attend, and he’s sitting in the seat beside her usual one. She could sit somewhere else, but it would be pretty obvious, and when he sends a challenging glance her way, she rolls her eyes and accepts defeat. She wants to sit with him anyway, she just knows it’s a bad idea.

“Clarke,” he says in greeting.

“Bellamy,” she nods.

The meeting starts, and that’s when Clarke realizes that there is a lot more to appreciate about Bellamy than his dark skin and sculpted body and beautiful smile. Because Bellamy is _funny_. He leans into Clarke with witty comments, cracks jokes about the ridiculous displays of the gods surrounding them (“Do you think Zeus is trying to compensate for something with that team of sixteen horses on his carriage?” Clarke can barely stifle her laughter) and generally just makes it the least boring conference Clarke has ever been forced to attend.

When a god Clarke doesn’t recognize named Linc speaks, Bellamy shifts toward her. “My sister just started seeing him. I’m trying to come up with something wrong with the guy, but he actually seems pretty decent.”

Clarke turns to Bellamy, peers at him appraisingly. “Would you like me to see if I can find any dirt on him?”

“What?”

“I have a few servants who are particularly adept at finding information. They’re very discreet. I could send them to search out anything he’s hiding, if you’d like, and report back to you soon.”

Bellamy seems to consider it. “I would appreciate that.”

She nods. “Then you can expect a visit from Monty and Jasper in a few weeks.”

“No, you should come.”

“What?”

“Don’t send your servants to talk to me. Come see me yourself.” He sounds disgruntled, but also vaguely flirty. Clarke feels like she doesn’t know what she’s doing. “I mean, if you can. You are allowed to leave the underworld, right?”

“Yes, I am, on small trips at least. If I leave for too long, the servants get disorganized, the souls get uneasy. No one really likes to think about it, but the underworld requires a lot of work.” She smiles weakly at him, but his eyes are fixed warmly on her, and she has to look away.

He seems to feel her unease, and goes back to mocking, scoffing when Finn stands to pander to a higher influence about some topic or other. “He’s the reason why all the gods have a reputation for being womanizers.”

“As if you haven’t had your share of lovers.” It’s the one thing about him that’s worried Clarke.

“True, but I’ve never lied to anyone to get them in my bed, never acted like someone I’m not.”

“Hmm,” Clarke says, but doesn’t offer more. When Bellamy turns to frown at her, she shrugs. “I was involved with him some years back. Then I found out he was also seeing Raven, and I ended it.”

She sees something like anger flash in Bellamy’s eyes. “He’s an ass. Both of you are too good for him.”

“Yes, I was pleased when I heard Raven had moved on.”

“Were you very heartbroken?” Bellamy asks.

Clarke swallows, considers for a moment.  
“Not heartbroken so much, just lonely. Hades isn’t a great place for love anyway.”

“Did he live with you there?”

“Not really. It was the same with Lexa, when I was with her. They came and went, enough to spend time with me. But um, most people don’t appreciate the darkness of my kingdom. It can be overwhelming to stay there for long periods.”

“I’d like to see it.”

“Hmm, maybe someday,” Clarke says, but her voice sounds cool, because all she can think of is how quickly Bellamy would run from her if he saw the reality of her life.

The meeting ends a few minutes later. Clarke returns Octavia’s greeting when she approaches, and moves to leave the siblings. Bellamy’s voice stops her.  
“Clarke, I’ll see you in a few weeks with that report?” He sounds hopeful.

“Yes, of course.”

His relieved smile is radiant enough to draw a tiny grin from Clarke.

 

Two weeks later, Clarke appears at Bellamy’s home. His face lights up when he sees her, and Clarke feels her heart jump.

“Linc is as decent as he seems. We only found one former lover, and she was very happy to tell us how wonderful he was, while they were together _and_ after they had separated. He takes his duties seriously, is very well respected among the gods he works with. Octavia chose well.”

Clarke hands him the folder of information Monty and Jasper dug up, and turns to leave.

“Wait Clarke, where are you going?”

“Home.”

“No,” he sighs, exasperated. “No, you did not come all this way to see me for five seconds and then leave.”

“And what do you propose I do instead?”

“I don’t know,” he growls, and the depth of his voice has Clarke’s knees trembling. “Act like you don’t hate me?”

Clarke looks him in the eye. “I don’t hate you Bellamy.”

He looks away, considers for a moment. “Take a walk with me. You don’t have to stay long, just– don’t act like this,” he waves the folder, “is all you came for.”

“Fine,” Clarke says, and they set out together.

They walk through forests filled with greenery, through orchards ripe for the picking, and meadows filled with wildflowers. Instead of a crown, Bellamy weaves a bracelet for her, then gathers a bouquet of the most vibrant blooms. He breathes on both of them, so she can enjoy them for a while in the underworld, and asks if she would sit with him. He tells her about Octavia, their relationship, how dependent they are on one another, and when she asks about his work, he talks about that too, how much he loves ruling over springtime, making beautiful things grow. When he asks about her work in turn, she explains that she was punished for the mistake of her father, but that it is important work, that the souls need someone to care for them, and she feels satisfaction in filling that need. She tells him about how much she loved her father, and the difficulties between herself and her mother, even though they love each other.

He stares at her through it all, and Clarke feels unnerved, because it feels like he’s seeing through her skin. Through her armor really, because she built so much of it after her losses – losing her father, and then Finn and Lexa. She thought once that her heart was so decimated it couldn’t possibly want anything else, but there it is, thumping wildly at the look in Bellamy’s eyes.

When she stands to leave, Bellamy follows suit, but grabs her hand when she tries to turn away.

“Can I see you again?”

“I’ll see you at the next conference,” Clarke says, knowing full well that it is two months away.

Bellamy makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. “No, just you and me, not at something you’re required to attend.”

Clarke wishes desperately that she could say yes, but they aren’t a normal pair of gods, they can’t court like the others. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He looks like he wants to argue, but doesn’t, just shakes his head in exasperation. “Fine,” he says. He presses the bouquet into her palm and closes her fingers around it, then lifts her hand to his mouth and kisses her knuckles, lingering with his eyes closed for one agonizing moment.

Clarke stands with her mouth gaping for five minutes after he walks away.

 

Clarke walks into the conference two months later to discover that Bellamy has returned to his old seat. Her heart clenches painfully, but she tries to shake it off. _It’s a bad idea_ , she tells herself, but it does little to relieve the tightness in her chest.

Octavia struts in just seconds before the meeting starts and plants herself in the spot next to Clarke.

“So, what did you do to him?” She asks quietly once the meeting begins.

“What?”

“What did you do to my brother? Because all I know is that he saw you once and spent an entire week hardly smiling or talking. And he can act like he’s fine, but I know better. The flowers and the fruit are fucking pathetic right now, and the only cause that I could possibly think of is one Clarke of the Underworld. So I’m asking, what did you do to Bellamy?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Clarke grumbles. Octavia scoffs.

“Fine, you want to know what happened? Bellamy asked if he could see me again, and I said no. That’s it. You want to be angry with me because I did what’s best for both of us? Go right ahead.”

“How is that best for either of you?”

“I live in the underworld Octavia. I’m never going to not live in the underworld. I’ve tried relationships before. They _don’t work_.”

Octavia shakes her head ruefully. “Bell isn’t like Finn and Lexa.” When she sees Clarke’s mouth hanging open, she smirks. “What, you think you’re the only one who can find information about someone?”

“Fair enough,” Clarke concedes. “But it doesn’t matter. Bellamy hasn’t even seen Hades. Everyone thinks they can handle it, but they can’t. He has no idea what he would be getting himself into.”

“And whose fault is that? You say he can’t handle it but how could you know? He may be the god of spring, but Bellamy’s tougher than you think. Are you really willing to give up a chance with him because you’re _scared_?” She spits the last word, like it’s offensive to her.

Clarke shakes her head, but her eyes feel prickly.

“Clarke,” Octavia says gently, “you’re not the only one with darkness inside you.”

She looks away, but her gaze meets Bellamy’s, and he’s glaring at her and Octavia, like he knows they’re talking about him.

“Shouldn’t you be glad that I’m not pursuing him? He wouldn’t be with you as much if we were together.”

“I’m a big girl, I can handle myself. Maybe I would be glad if you were just one of the little tarts that he sleeps with. It doesn’t make me happy to see him upset over someone, especially someone who so obviously wants him. You’re pushing him away, but it doesn’t feel so good when he stays away, does it?” She looks pointedly in Bellamy’s direction, and Clarke winces.

“No, it doesn’t. But what are you suggesting I do?”

“Well if you’re so worried about him in the underworld, why don’t you just invite him? If he doesn’t like it, you’ll know, and you can end it. And if he’s a good fit, then you can stop being so fucking stupid around him.”

 

When the conference ends, Bellamy leaves quickly, and Clarke finds herself chasing after him before she can really consider it.

“Bellamy wait!” she yells when they’re far enough from the other gods.

“What do you want, Clarke? To talk to me and then tell me it’s a bad idea afterward?”

“No,” she says as she moves to stand in front of him. “No, that’s not- not what I want at all.”

“Then what?” He sounds frustrated, and Clarke doesn’t know how to handle it.

“I’m sorry about before. I do still think it’s a bad idea, but I don’t want to run away anymore. Please, just-” She pushes her hair out of her face, and Bellamy catches her hand before it drops.

“Is that-” he says, looking at her wrist, where he had placed the flowery bracelet two months before.

“Oh, yeah. The flowers fell off when they died.” But the soft twigs twined together to make the base had dried and hardened, and Clarke liked the woven texture, and the reminder of Bellamy’s hands creating it, so she left it.

Clarke looks up to Bellamy’s face, and his eyes are soft and confused, staring at her hand still clutched in his.

“Would you like to visit Hades?” She says softly. His gaze snaps back to her face, and she waits in horrible anticipation.

“Did Octavia make you ask me that?”

“No. Octavia just made me realize that I would be stupid not to. I want you to see my kingdom, if you want that too.”

“Yes.”

“Alright,” Clarke says, relieved. “I’ll send a carriage for you, in a week?”

Bellamy nods, and Clarke can’t think of anything else to say, so she pulls his hand, still holding hers, to her face, and kisses the back of it gently.

“Um, until then,” she says shyly, and turns to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't edit this chapter as heavily as I intended to, so if you have any critiques, don't hesitate to tell me!  
> Next up, Bellamy visits Hades, and there might be some kissing (and maybe other stuff).


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay friends, this is the final installment. This section is more than twice as long as the first two chapters combined (whoops), so I hope you like it! Also, I make good on my promise for some smut (although it's pretty tame in my opinion), just so you're forewarned.

By the time Bellamy’s visit has arrived, Clarke has convinced herself that the whole thing is going to go down in flames.

But he arrives with a bouquet of flowers, and his attendant Miller carries baskets more of them.

And when he steps out of her carriage, rather than avoiding the very dead, very creepy creatures that pull it, he pats one on the neck (she’s surprised to see it lean into Bellamy’s touch, like they’re already familiar) and says, “I like your horses,” with a wide grin in greeting.

And so it goes.

He holds his palm to one of Cerberus’ heads, which sniffs doubtfully, but then nudges his nose acceptingly against Bellamy’s fingers. He scratches the beast’s chin for a moment, but then turns to Clarke with an expectant look.

“Right, um, come this way,” she says, and struggles to wipe the gob-smacked expression from her face.

When she introduces him to Monty and Jasper, he’s more than polite; he’s warm and sincere, and Clarke feels optimism blossoming in her chest.

She gives him a full tour of the underworld, and tries not to be too distracted by how much she likes the sight of him there. When they pass the River Styx, their hands bump, and he laces his fingers through hers. She’s glad he doesn’t look back to see the ridiculous smile on her face.

She tenses when one of the souls reaches for him, but he doesn’t flinch, just looks to her for permission. She nods, and when the soul touches him, his face turns to amazement at the sensation, rather than the aversion she expected. She doesn’t realize how tightly she’s squeezing his hand until he flexes his fingers and says, “I’m not going anywhere.”

She smiles sheepishly and tells herself that wasn’t a promise.

 

Later, after they’ve eaten and are lounging in the part of the kingdom that is Clarke’s home, Bellamy says, “So, did I pass?”

“What?” Clarke chokes, even though she knows instantly, _yes, yes you passed._

“Well that’s what this was, right? You invited me here so you could evaluate how well I’d deal with the underworld. So did I pass?”

“I would say yes, but the fact that my intentions were so transparent makes me suspicious.” She narrows her eyes in jest, and he laughs.

“I just-” Bellamy pauses, and his voice drops, turns serious. “This means something, right?”

Clarke examines his face, from the messy black hair to the dimple in his chin, his expression hopeful in a somber way.

“Yeah,” she says, her heart racing, terrified and excited all at once. “Yes, you passed. And yes, this means something. If you want it to.”

“I do,” he says, and Clarke has to look away at the intensity of his voice.

“Do you want to see my throne?” She asks suddenly, not caring that she is very blatantly changing the subject. It takes Bellamy a second to process.

“You actually have one?”

“Yep. Come on, I’ll show you.” She is up and running before he can blink. They both laugh as Bellamy chases her through the kingdom to the throne, where she lets him try it out. “I’m not going to get stuck here or something if I sit on it, right?” He asks, and she laughs. She likes that he can make her laugh.

“No, that’s the food grown here. So don’t eat the fruit lying around.”

“Does that include you?”

Clarke feels her face go red, but Bellamy backs off quickly.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. Please don’t feel uncomfortable.”

“I’m not. I just-” She stops, unsure if she wants to talk about something like this, but she wants to be open with Bellamy. She doesn’t want to walk around him expecting them to fail. “It’s just been a while, that’s all.”

He holds her gaze, and it’s so affectionate that she looks away.

“That’s fine, Clarke. Do you miss it?”

She huffs a broken laugh. “Only all the time. Not just sex though, I mean yes, I miss that terribly too. But just, having someone? Even something as simple as sharing a bed. The intimacy of knowing that someone accepts you, wants you? That they’ll be there. I miss that.”

Bellamy doesn’t respond, just stares at her with a soft, earnest frown.

“I expect you should be getting home soon?” Clarke says, and he startles out of it.

“Right, of course.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

When they reach the gates, Jasper and Monty disappear with Miller to hitch the horses and ready the carriage.

Clarke stands with Bellamy, her heart racing when he turns to face her.

“I’m glad you came.”

“So am I. Do you- ” He takes a deep breath. “Those things you miss. Can you see those with me?” He takes a step closer, and Clarke responds with a step back. Her body nudges the gate behind her, and she feels like Bellamy is everywhere. She looks at the ground.

“Clarke.”

“Yes,” she says desperately, meeting his eyes, and her face is absolutely wrecked.

He braces his hands against the gate on either side of her face.

“Please don’t tell me to leave you alone.”

She’s silent for a moment, and feels Bellamy’s doubt in the air, when she reaches a hand to curl around the back of his neck.

“Don’t leave me alone.”

She sees his grin for one shining moment before he lowers his mouth to hers. It’s all gentle lips and soft exhalations until she grips his hair and pulls him into her harder. Then it’s heavy breathing and Bellamy’s body against hers, and Clarke thinks she could kiss him for hours. She snakes one hand to his lower back and appreciates the way he moans into her mouth when she scratches her nails lightly over his skin. She whimpers quietly when he pulls away, and takes a moment to realize he only stopped because Miller cleared his throat somewhere behind him.

“I’m sorry to interrupt sir, the carriage is ready.”

“Thank you Miller, I’ll just be a minute,” Bellamy says with his face buried in Clarke’s hair. He kisses her again as soon as they hear Miller walk away, but it’s more playful. She has a hard time not smiling against his lips.

“When can I see you again?” he asks.

“Soon. Maybe I could visit you and Octavia?”

“Yes, definitely. I should go,” he says around more kisses. She laughs. He holds her face between his hands and sobers. “I really like you, Clarke.”

“I really like you too, Bellamy,” she says in return. He smiles before pressing a long kiss to her forehead. Clarke sinks into it just before he turns to leave.

 

Clarke visits Bellamy and Octavia a week later. Bellamy greets her by himself, and Clarke realizes it’s just so he can kiss her without his sister around. When Clarke digs her fingers into his hair, some of the flowers woven into it fall out, and she pulls away giggling.

“Sorry,” she says, kissing his jaw. He rolls his eyes good-naturedly, but instead of replacing the flowers in his own hair, he picks new ones and braids them into a halo in hers. She shivers at the feeling of his fingers in her hair, and touches the flowers gingerly, like they’re something fragile. “Thank you,” she says, leaning up to capture his lips again.

When they finally meet with Octavia, she just smirks at them, no doubt imagining what they were up to.

“Come on lovebirds, we’ve got shit to do!”

Neither of them bothers to contradict the accusation. When Octavia sidles up to Clarke, she leans over to whisper, “The flowers and the fruit are doing _much_ better this week.” Clarke blushes, but she really doesn’t mind. Bellamy holds her hand nearly the whole day, and he repeatedly catches her smiling, with her eyes closed and face tilted to the sun. “It’s just nice,” she explains to him the first time, “to feel the sunlight.” He nods like it’s the most reasonable thing he’s ever heard.

They kiss for a long time before she leaves, and she’s too happy to care that they’re acting like mortals stupidly in love.

 

They take turns visiting each other every week. They make out for hours on Clarke’s throne and in the middle of Bellamy’s wildflowers, and they learn about their kingdoms and duties together. Clarke loves watching Bellamy make living things shoot from the earth, and he can’t help but be amazed by how effectively she soothes the agitated souls in her care. In between, they talk about everything they’ve ever done, and Clarke feels secure with Bellamy in a way she hasn’t in a long time.

One evening when he sees her, her fingers are stained from the work with her prisoners. Her hands look like she dipped them in charcoal, and he lets her touch his face, soft strokes dragging the inky dust around his eyes in a design that looks menacing and beautiful.

When he presses his body to hers and nearly devours her with kisses, the dust smears onto her face, and her wandering hands leave patterns on his neck and lower back. When she looks at the reckless art on his body, thinks about how he didn’t flinch from her blackened hands, it takes all of her self-control not to drag him straight to her bedroom and have her way with him.

The only thing stopping her is the wary voice in her head saying _too soon, too soon._ She had jumped into bed with Finn and Lexa almost immediately, and she doesn’t want to make the same mistakes again, so she holds off.

Except a month later, when Bellamy has her backed against a dark corner of her kingdom with her leg hitched around his hip and his mouth sucking bruises into her neck, Clarke decides she’s waited long enough.

“Bed,” she rasps out in between moans. Bellamy freezes and pulls away.

“What?” His voice is hoarse with want, and Clarke feels her whole body throb. “Are you sure?”

“Very. We’re not having sex for the first time against a wall. We can try that later.”

Bellamy groans and rests his forehead against hers. “I don’t even know where your bedroom is. You’ve never shown me.”

“Well then,” she says, ducking her head to scrape her teeth against his neck and reveling in the way his hips jolt against hers, “let me show you.”

She takes his hand and leads him through her kingdom to a darkened, secluded hallway with a pomegranate tree growing at one end and a simple, unadorned door at the other. When they walk through it, Bellamy looks around a plain bedroom, smaller than he would expect for someone who rules a kingdom. The walls are covered with Clarke’s art, and the only luxurious thing in sight is the bed, which is large and covered in silk sheets.

Bellamy wraps his arms around Clarke’s waist from behind and rests his chin on her shoulder, when he spots the dried flower crown on her nightstand.

“You kept it?” He asks in amazement.

Clarke follows his gaze. “Of course I kept it. You made it for me.”

“But you didn’t even like me then.”

Clarke laughs brightly at him. “Trust me, I liked you then. I was just scared.”

Bellamy turns her to face him. “Are you still scared?”

She doesn’t look away as she would have a few months ago. She meets his eyes and shakes her head. “Not as much as I used to be.”

He waits for her to make the first move, more nervous than she expected him to be, so she leans up to whisper in his ear, “Bellamy, I want you. Please don’t make me wait.”

They tug their clothes off quickly after that, and Bellamy pushes her gently onto the bed.  Clarke grips his hair as he kisses her neck, moving slowly down her body, pressing _I love you_ into every inch of skin his mouth touches. She feels like his flowers as he breathes life into them, but she also feels more like the goddess of the underworld than she ever has, fire consuming her as his beautiful hands stroke her into an intoxicating downfall.

She pulls him up by his hair when his mouth starts to get serious around her hips, stuttering, “next time,” before she drags his lips back to hers.

His tongue is in her mouth and his hand is firmly planted between her legs, making her breathing heavy as she moves her fingers over the muscled surface of his back. She reaches between them to stroke his length, and his hips cant forward at the contact. When he moans into her mouth, Clarke feels it all the way to her toes.

“Bell, please,” Clarke murmurs desperately, and Bellamy pushes into her in assent. It feels like relief and agony all at once, and Clarke sighs happily as Bellamy begins to move. He balances his weight on one forearm and cradles her face with the other hand, pressing kisses to her face every few strokes, watching her in awe through it all.

Clarke can’t keep her moans in, but she can’t bring herself to feel embarrassed when Bellamy isn’t exactly being quiet either. She decides very quickly that the way he groans as he thrusts into her is her new favorite sound.

She wraps her legs around his waist and digs her fingernails into his back, giving herself over to the sparks kindling in her veins. When her moans become choked and quiet, Bellamy brings her to the edge with just a few carefully placed thrusts, and the pleasure flares through her with bright pops of color behind her tightly shut eyes.

It takes her a second to regain her breath, and another to realize that Bellamy has stopped moving, even though he definitely isn’t finished. She opens her eyes to find him staring at her, a look of wonder on his face.

When she reaches up to stroke a thumb across his cheekbone, he seems to clear his head.

“Sorry, I just – you’re amazing,” he says reverently. Clarke doesn’t say anything, just lifts her head to fuse their mouths together and drags her hand through his hair. Aftershocks of pleasure ripple through her as he chases his climax, and when he comes with his face pressed against her neck, Clarke is exhausted, but ridiculously happy.

It’s a few minutes before she can stop kissing every part of him she can reach. He rolls over and pulls her onto his chest, gives her a long and languid kiss goodnight, and she is too tired to remember that she shouldn’t let him spend the night.

 

She wakes a few hours later to Bellamy shaking her shoulder softly, and the distant sounds of shrieking souls.

“Hm?” She mumbles as she turns over in Bellamy’s arms.

“What is that?” He asks, looking disturbed by something in the underworld for the first time since he started visiting.

“Oh, it’s the souls. They’re restless,” She says, turning away from him. She’s so used to it that she normally sleeps right through the noise.

“Is there anything we can do?”

That’s not what Clarke expected.

“No. Sometimes I go sit with them, but it doesn’t really help. Sometimes they just need to scream. You can go home if it bothers you,” she says stiffly. The first time Finn heard it, she went down on him to get him to stay, although he left the next time, and every time after. When Lexa heard the souls, her distaste was obvious from her expression, and Clarke just rolled to the other side of the bed and told her she didn’t need to stay the night.

So Clarke is surprised when Bellamy snakes his arm around her waist and pulls her back against his chest. “I’m not going home,” he says against her neck.

“It’s fine that it bothers you, really, you don’t need to stay,” she says, even though she wants him to.

“Clarke,” he kisses her neck and she melts against him, despite her best efforts. “I made love to you last night, and I intend to do so again in the morning. You’re not getting rid of me just because you have a few wailing souls in your basement.”

Clarke almost laughs at his assessment of the situation. She turns in his arms to face him, and he brushes the hair away from her face with gentle fingers.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Clarke nods, and strokes her hands softly over his bare back. She’s never used her soothing magic on anyone but the spirits under her care, but she lets the dark tendrils fall from her fingertips into his skin, and his eyes drop shut with a sigh.

“Love you,” he mumbles into her shoulder, and Clarke waits until he’s asleep to press a kiss to his hair and whisper, “I love you, too.”

Clarke lets herself believe that it is a promise this time.

 

The next morning, Clarke wakes up on her stomach with Bellamy’s mouth brushing her lower back.

“Do you mind?”

“No,” she says breathily, more relieved than she likes that he stayed the whole night.

His hands grip her hips to roll her body over, and he makes her come with his mouth against her core. Once she’s recovered, she climbs on top of him and slides onto his length. He digs his fingers into her hips and thighs, and she tugs on his hair when she leans down to kiss him deeply, keeping their faces close as she rocks against him. Every movement is unhurried and deliberate, and Clarke loves it.

“Bellamy,” she chokes out just before she comes, and watches his eyes soften as he drags her through it. He murmurs her name adoringly against her neck and lips until his pleasure peaks with a strangled moan. Clarke pushes her face against his and giggles.

“What?” He asks, hardly moving as he catches his breath.

“Nothing,” Clarke says happily. “I just really like morning sex.” She kisses his forehead and pulls away grinning. He untangles one of her hands from his hair and laces his fingers through hers with a lazy smile.

 

It’s not until they’re eating breakfast together that Clarke comes down from her high, and suddenly she can’t get the thought of _too good to be true_ out of her head. _Too good to last_ , she thinks worriedly, because all the other good things she’s had crashed and burned when she least expected it. She knows Bellamy isn’t hiding anything from her, but she can’t stop wondering when the underworld will stop seeming new and intriguing to him and start seeming bleak and irritating.

Bellamy feels her mood shift but doesn’t demand an explanation, just holds her hand as they eat and she walks him out. When they reach the gate, he plants his mouth on hers and kisses her until she can’t breathe.

“Stop overthinking this,” He whispers against her ear, and she tries to nod even with the lump in her throat.

He kisses her again, says, “I’ll see you next week,” and leaves.

 

Clarke tamps down on her doubt as much as she can, but she knows Bellamy can feel it. They visit every week, and the sex continues to be wonderful, but Clarke can’t help but think that it’s only a matter of time before Bellamy’s had enough of her darkness.

Three months have passed when they start fighting. It’s little things at first, like Clarke trying to get him to leave even though she knows he wants to spend the night, or telling him he doesn’t have to visit even though she wants him to. He tries to be patient, tells himself that if he just sticks around long enough, she’ll see that he’s serious about her. But when he asks if he can stay for longer periods, a week or two at a time, she comes up with an excuse against it quickly, and pushes him further away.

They have good moments, cuddling and talking, and Clarke knows that Bellamy understands her better than anyone ever has. She loves his voice and his stories, and she feels safe when he’s with her, like they can take on anything together. But when he isn’t with her, her mind runs wild, and she can’t stop thinking about Finn and Lexa, and how she wasn’t enough for either of them.

Bellamy’s patience runs out when Clarke shuts him out, allowing his usual visit but hardly talking or even looking at him. He tries to comfort her, but she won’t let him, and he leaves without spending the night for the first time since he started. The next week she makes her visit out of the underworld to see him, and when he confronts her about her mood, she snaps at him, saying that if she’s so hard to deal with, she’ll just leave. Bellamy stops her and they have angry sex, which makes things slightly better, but the tension is still there.

It blows up finally when Bellamy is in the underworld and Clarke makes a comment implying that he won’t be around in the future. His whole body freezes where he’s standing.

“Clarke,” he grits out. “I’ve told you I’m not going anywhere. Why don’t you believe me?”

When she turns away and ignores him, Bellamy feels anger flare inside him. “Why don’t you trust me?”

“I do trust you Bellamy,” she says dismissively, but he can hear the hesitation in her voice.

“No you don’t. If you trusted me you wouldn’t act like this. If you trusted me you wouldn’t keep pushing me away and expecting me to act like your old lovers. When are you going to stop comparing me to them?”

“I’m not comparing you to anyone,” she says indignantly.

“Yes you are!” He shouts, and then runs a hand over his face, trying to control his temper. “You’ve completely shut me out and I know you think I’m going to leave you. But I’ve got news for you Clarke, your past lovers were terrible, and I’m not going to do that to you, so you need to stop acting like I’m them.”

“They were not terrible!” She shouts, and Bellamy rolls his eyes.

“You’re going to defend them now? Really, to me? But I guess you’re the one that picked them, I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Yeah, I’m awful at picking people who can actually stick around, and I picked you didn’t I? So why should you be any different?”

“I am nothing like them,” he growls. “I don’t lie to the people I’m with, and I’m certainly not going to leave you for some paltry new duties somewhere else. And maybe if you’d stop treating me like I’m going to, you’d be able to see that!”

“You are like them!” She yells, and Bellamy flinches at the words, but she doesn’t feel any satisfaction in it. “Those things don’t matter, you think you like it here now, but you won’t soon. The underworld is new and interesting, but soon enough it will just be a dark burden, and then after that I’ll be the burden!”

“Loving you isn’t a burden Clarke!” He yells, exasperated. “And if you weren’t so blinded by your fear you’d be able to see that I _like_ it here. I _want_ to be here with you.”

“I’m not blinded by my fear,” she snarls. “I’m being rational. You’re going to hurt me eventually, even if you don’t intend to. I’m protecting myself.”

“What’s the point of a relationship if you can’t even trust me to take care of you? I can handle the underworld, Clarke, I can’t handle you locking yourself away from me. You’re sabotaging us, so that when I leave you can say that I was the weak one in this. You know what, I am going to hurt you. Just like you’re hurting me right now. That’s part of being together, you always risk being hurt. But I want to take that risk with you,” he says pleadingly. “Please trust me Clarke. Please believe that I will never hurt you without making it better.”

He sees emotion flicker through her eyes before she can stop it. But when he reaches for her hand, she pulls away.

“Go home,” she says quietly.

“Clarke,” he begs.

“Leave, Bellamy.”

He shakes his head, his eyes filling with tears. “Fine,” he says, and walks to the gate alone for the first time.

Clarke crumples to the ground and cries, and she can’t even bring herself to think _I knew it_ , because he’s right, she sabotaged them. And it doesn’t make her feel any better at all.

 

The next day, Clarke grumbles and snaps at the servants, and she doesn’t even bother to go soothe the souls, just lets them scream through the morning. It matches the way she feels toward herself.

Monty approaches carefully. “Do I need to go beat someone up for you?” He asks gently.

Clarke almost laughs. “No, Monty. Besides, Bellamy could take you, easy.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No,” she sighs. “I hurt myself.”

“Does this mean that Miller won’t be around anymore?”

Clarke looks at Monty appraisingly. She figured there was something between her servant and Bellamy’s attendant.

“Maybe. But you can visit him whenever you’d like. I’ll allow it. Or invite him here, I can’t imagine Bellamy would be cruel enough to make him stay away.”

Monty nods next to her. They’re both sitting propped up against a wall, because Clarke can’t seem to make her herself do anything but wallow.

“You know,” Monty says, musing, “You could always just force him to come back.”

“Yeah, that would go over well.”

But then Clarke can’t stop thinking about it. After all, Bellamy said he could handle the underworld, and it would be the perfect way to make him see how wrong he was.

There’s a finicky thought in the back of her head saying that it’s a bad idea, but she ignores it. Instead, she locates Bellamy and sends up a dark vine through the earth. She watches as it sprouts into a bloom at his feet and he leans over to pluck it with a curious look on his face. _I know you too well, babe_ , she thinks. The second he touches the flower, it wraps around his wrist in a shackle and holds him there against his struggles. A moment later, Monty and the carriage screech to a halt beside him.

“What the hell?” Bellamy says as Monty pulls the vine from the earth and yanks him to the carriage.

“Sorry man, boss’s orders.” He says with a sympathetic frown, shoving him inside.

Clarke regrets the foolish plan immediately but can’t stop it now – the vine will force Bellamy to go to the underworld and won’t release him until she removes it herself. She knew he would be angry, but now she realizes that he’s about to be angry and right in front of her, stuck in her kingdom until she figures out her emotional issues. She wants to apologize immediately, the second he walks through the gates, for forcing him there and for the fight yesterday, but then he’s storming in, Monty trailing nervously behind him, and it’s so much easier to be angry and mean when he’s looking at her like that.

“What the hell is this?” He shouts, and it fuels the fire in her veins. “Did it occur to you that I might have been in the middle of something?”

“No,” Clarke throws back sarcastically. “I just assumed you sat around all day when you weren’t with me, how stupid of me.”

“Is this another test?”

“You know that wasn’t really my intention, but since you mentioned it,” her voice is cold and hard, and she hates herself like this, but if she stops she might start crying, “You did say that you could handle Hades, so I thought, why not make you prove it?”

“That’s bullshit Clarke! If you don’t trust me already then there’s nothing I can do to change that. You don’t get to banish me one day and then summon me back the next.”

“That vine will keep you in the underworld until I remove it myself. I trust you can find anything you need here. Monty can show you to a guest room,” she says, no emotion in her voice as she turns to leave his presence.

“You can’t just drag people to your kingdom against their will whenever you’re upset Clarke!” He shouts after her, and she turns to meet his gaze.

“Watch me,” she snarls, and walks away.

 

Clarke spends the rest of the day shut in her bedroom.

The next day, Monty brings her food, and checks to make sure she’s fine. The souls have been shrieking all day – they can feel her foul mood, and she hasn’t done anything for them since before her fight with Bellamy two days ago. When Monty tells her that she should probably go check on them, she snaps at him, and he leaves.

But a few hours later, the souls seem to settle, and Clarke can’t think of any reasons why they would have quieted on their own when the atmosphere of the underworld is in such an upheaval, so she calls Monty back. She apologizes first, because she’s not a jerk, and then she asks him to figure out what’s going on. He shuffles nervously in front of her before she demands he just spit it out.

“Bellamy’s with them.”

“Oh,” she says, trying to decide how to process that. “You can go Monty, thank you.”

She makes her way down to the souls and finds Bellamy. He’s just sitting there, radiating his light onto them, and they’re calm under his watch. Clarke stands staring for a moment until he looks up at her expectantly.

“I don’t want to talk,” she says, before he can get anything out. “I just want to sit with you, and not talk. Can we do that?”

He nods glumly and looks back to the souls.

Clarke spends an hour sitting with him. She stares at his profile a considerable amount, thinks about how much she loves his body and his freckles and his messy hair, how much she likes the contrast between Bellamy and herself.

She stares at the souls, watches them swirl under his feet, seemingly content just to bask in his glow. _Kind of like me_ , she thinks. There are a few times when Bellamy looks like he wants to speak, but doesn’t. It almost makes Clarke angry just how good he is at respecting her wishes.

She stands to leave, and when he looks up at her, she sighs. “I’m still not going to talk, but if there was something you wanted to say… just say it.”

“You’re staring at me again,” he says quietly.

Her brow furrows in confusion.

“You’re staring at me again, the way that you used to stare at me in that first year, when you would just look at me from across conferences but never actually do something. Staring at me like… like I’m something you want, but that you aren’t actually willing to try for.”

Clarke nods. She doesn’t have anything to say to that, so she walks back to her room, where she tries to sleep, but can’t.

 

The next day, she goes back to the souls, and Bellamy is there, so they sit without talking again. 

It becomes a routine, and Clarke even drags herself out of her bedroom for silent meals with Bellamy, which are nice in a strange way. She doesn’t want to talk, because if they talk, they’ll fight. She ignores the vine on his wrist, and he doesn’t ask about it.

All things considered, he’s handling the underworld quite well, but Clarke can’t shake her distrust that it’s because he’s trying to prove it to her.

After a week, Clarke decides she’s had enough of silence. She walks to the table at dinner, and says, “Can we talk without fighting?” He nods, and she sits down.

“How’s Octavia?” She starts.

And so they talk, only about easy subjects, things that won’t lead to contention, but Clarke finds that she’s missed his voice and she likes being able to smile at him again.

A few days later, when Clarke meets Bellamy by the souls, she sits directly next to him and grabs his hand, pulling his arm over her shoulder.

She breathes a sigh of relief when he doesn’t pull away.

“I’m not going to apologize,” she says, and Bellamy huffs out a breath that sounds almost like a laugh.

“Then I won’t either.”

“Fine.” Her heart stutters suddenly when Bellamy leans to press a kiss against her hair.

“Fine,” he agrees.

 

They carry on like this, touching and talking now, but only in gentle words and unobtrusive grazes that keep them together but don’t allow for conflict.

As much as Clarke hates admitting she’s wrong, it’s easy to see how well Bellamy fits in the underworld. Though he’s been there for weeks, he isn’t sinking under the darkness. In fact, he seems buoyed by it, looking at least as happy as Clarke has ever seen him. He keeps busy with all the work he can find, and uses Monty to carry instructions for his own kingdom to Miller.

The only time he doesn’t seem particularly content is when he’s with Clarke, and she knows it’s because of the conflict between them.

 

A few weeks later, as they’re sitting by the souls together, Bellamy’s arm wrapped around Clarke’s waist, she mumbles something.  
“What was that?” He asks absently.

“I’m scared,” she says, more clearly.

He pulls away to look at her. “Yeah, I know.”

“No, Bellamy,” her voice is thick, and she tries to swallow around the fear. “I’m _really_ scared.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“That you’ll hate me,” she says brokenly. “Bellamy, I’m so scared that you’ll hate me someday. That you’ll be angry I put you through this, and that you’ll realize I’m not worth it.”

“That won’t happen,” he says firmly.

“But how could you know? How can you know that you’ll always feel this way, that the underworld won’t become a burden, that _I_ won’t become a burden? How can you know that you’ll always love me enough for this to be worth it?”

“Clarke, do you love me?” He asks, like it's the simplest question in the world. And it is. 

“Yes.”

“Will you always love me?”

“Yes.”

“That’s how I know. If you can trust yourself to feel that, then trust me that I feel the same.”

“What if you hate me?” She says, her voice cracking and eyes filling with tears.

“Clarke,” he says, pleading. “You know me.” He cradles her face between his hands. “You know me. That won’t happen. Please, trust me.” He kisses her for the first time since he arrived, and she falls into it, gripping his wrists the way she did when he placed his first gift, the flower crown, on her head. “Trust me, Clarke,” he says when they pull apart. “Don’t push me away. Not for this. Push me away because I’m annoying or stupid or terrible, but don’t push me away because you’re scared.”

She nods against him, terrified but hopeful.

“Will you come to bed with me?” She asks. Bellamy smiles and kisses her again.

“Yes, definitely.”

They hold hands as they walk to her bedroom, and he removes her clothing slowly, kissing every inch of her skin as it is uncovered. He lowers her to the bed, and they make love slowly and quietly. Bellamy laces his fingers through hers and holds her hands above her head, whispers “trust me,” and she does. She lets him take control, and it’s gentle and beautiful and feels like relief for her tattered soul. He says, “I love you,” over and over, and when she repeats it back, his smile almost breaks her heart.

After, he won’t let her go, and she doesn’t mind at all.

“I know you think that your darkness is a burden, Clarke,” he says, and she rolls over to meet his gaze. “But it’s not. No, let me talk,” he says when she opens her mouth to speak. She nods in acceptance. “The fact of the matter is that I have darkness too, and I’m not interested in pretending it doesn’t exist. My darkness likes yours, Clarke. The parts of me that feel messy and complicated don’t feel that way when I’m with you. They feel right. And you have light in you too, even if you pretend it doesn’t exist, I can see it. And my light likes yours. I’m not being delusional by loving you. I’m seeing you, all of you, and I’m telling you that I want it. The darkness and the light, and the messy parts that you’re afraid of. I want all of that, not just some of it. Let me keep loving you, Clarke.”

She swallows back the tears and nods.

“Really?” He says in disbelief.

“Yes,” She says with a tearful smile.

He buries her in a hug, and she laughs and cards her fingers through his hair, which she has really missed. He falls asleep curled around her, and when the souls start howling a few minutes later, he sleeps straight through it, like it’s nothing at all.

 

In the morning, they’re lounging in bed, neither willing to get up and stop holding each other yet.

“Bellamy, you can’t stay here forever.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but Clarke shakes her head.

“You can’t, it will ruin us. You have to be able to leave, to go back to your life. You have a sister, and duties, and I can’t take you away from those. If you’re always here, we won’t last. I do trust you, I do, but I don’t trust that you can spend every day here without resenting me at some point for taking you away from what you love.”

She grabs his wrist and unwinds the vine, throwing it off the side of the bed.

He nods, although he doesn’t seem totally happy about it. “I won’t argue with you about this. We’ll work something out.”

She reaches up to kiss him, and he leans into her. “We’ll figure something out,” she agrees.

 

Bellamy doesn’t leave that day, even though he’s free to.

“I’m going to go see Octavia tomorrow,” he tells Clarke as he’s kissing her that night.

She nods. “Tell her I say hello,” she mumbles against his neck, and then they stop talking, because they have lost time to make up for.

 

The next day, he returns before Clarke has even noticed he’s gone.

“I didn’t know you were coming back right away,” she says when he walks through the gates.

“Yep, I just had to check on something with O,” he says, and there’s something suspicious about it, but Clarke ignores it, figuring she just isn’t past her fears yet.

 

But that night, when he comes to bed, he tastes like pomegranate when he kisses her. The panic jolts through her immediately, because that’s _her_ pomegranate, _underworld_ pomegranate, she can tell the difference between the flavors without even trying.

“No, no, no, Bellamy what did you do?” She says, close to tears, and she can’t understand why Bellamy is _smiling_ like he’s done something wonderful.

“No, Bellamy, you’ll be stuck here forever, you’ll hate me, why did you eat it? You’ll resent me forever, _Bellamy why_?” She cries. She doesn’t stop rambling until he kisses her again, but the taste of her pomegranate on his tongue doesn’t help calm her at all.

“Half,” he murmurs into her mouth.

“What?” She cries, tears streaming down her face.

“I only ate half of it,” he says, and holds out the other half for her to see. She grabs it out of his hands and pushes it away from him immediately.

He grabs her face in his hands and makes her look at him. “Half, Clarke. Half the year with you, half the year with Octavia and my duties. I’ll never have to choose between either of you. Is that-” he hesitates for the first time. “Is that alright?”

“You idiot!” She mumbles, but she stops crying. It actually is a good idea, better than anything she could have come up with. Bellamy is bound to her now, but he's free still. “Yes, that’s alright, why did you have to scare me like that?”

“You would have never let me do it if you had known before.”

“You’re right. Is that why you visited Octavia?”

“Mmhmm. I told her my plan, and she told me to go for it.”

“Good sister,” Clarke mumbles. Bellamy nods, “very good sister.”

Clarke grabs his neck and pulls his lips against hers, then drags him onto the bed, where she tells him she loves him as they dive into each other in newfound happiness.

“I’ll never leave you Clarke,” he whispers against her ear, and she looks at his eyes, brown and beautiful and earnest, and says, “I know, Bellamy.”

 

Monty thinks they’re crazy when he finds out, but he doesn’t mind seeing Miller in and out of the underworld often, so he keeps it to himself.

Clarke makes Bellamy a bracelet out of the pomegranate tree, and he wears it whenever he leaves the underworld, a symbol of his commitment to her.

When Finn sees them walk into the next conference holding hands, he scowls and scoffs, and Clarke smiles at Bellamy, reaching up to kiss his jaw. Octavia runs over to them excitedly and embraces Clarke in a long hug, whispering, “I’m glad you got your shit together,” so Bellamy can’t hear.

“Me too,” Clarke whispers back, smiling.

Octavia suggests that everyone needs more friends, and leads them over to Raven and Wells, the god she started seeing after the Finn debacle. Clarke is surprised by how well she and Raven get along, and Bellamy and Wells hit it off immediately. Bellamy doesn’t even blanch when Linc shows up and sits by Octavia. When he sees Clarke’s raised eyebrow, he smiles wryly. “Octavia has her own life, and I have mine. She can take care of herself.” Clarke nods in approval and squeezes his hand.

Things aren’t perfect, because nothing ever is, but they’re damn good, and Clarke isn’t lonely anymore, even when Bellamy is away.

 

Once, when Clarke is putting Bellamy on the carriage to leave the underworld, Monty approaches her.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” He asks, as they watch the carriage pull away.

“What?”

“Well, you get to be with him, but you know the whole time that he has to leave. Every time, he leaves.”

Clarke turns to him, smiles, and it’s not a sad smile. It’s happy, even though she won’t see Bellamy for more than a few hours at a time for another six months. “That’s just it. You’re thinking about how he always has to leave, and it’s true, he does, and it isn’t always easy. But I’m thinking about how he always comes back. No matter what, he always comes back to me.”

 

A few years later, they have a daughter. They name her Persephone, and she traipses between her mother’s underworld and her father’s springtime, and fits in both of them. They have a daughter, and she is the perfect combination of light and dark, and Clarke understands why Bellamy loves her darkness, because she sees it in her daughter, and she knows how to love it now too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like it! A huge thank you goes out to everyone who has left kudos or commented, I appreciate it so much. This fic, especially this last chapter, is very close to my heart, so let me know what you think of it if you have a chance!


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